


Sacrifice

by BlackKatJinx



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: A little Langst mixed in, Blood and Injury, Forced Drinking, Gen, Hurt Lance (Voltron), I am sorry Lance, I really love you, Open Ending, Poison, Sacrifice, Slight muscle paralyzation, Voltron Whump Week, Whump, a whole lot of whump, but you are such a good target for Whump, not much comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-19
Updated: 2017-08-19
Packaged: 2018-12-17 03:44:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,021
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11843307
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlackKatJinx/pseuds/BlackKatJinx
Summary: Captured and injured, Lance hopes the rest of the team finds him soon because being a sacrifice is something he never wanted to experience.





	Sacrifice

Lance hated the fact that all he could do was sit here like a good little prisoner.  
  
Yeah, there were only two guards and he could take them out easily with a couple shots from his blaster... if he still had his bayard. His kidnappers had taken both it, and his helmet, from him after their initial ambush. Lance tried to get both of them back but the attempt had not gone as planned. These reptilian aliens were no slouches. They were quick on their feet and both their sharp claws, and scaled hide, were nothing to joke about either. His injured side could attest to that.  
  
Still, there had to be _something_ he could do.  
  
Lance flexed his hands behind his back, testing his bindings. His wrists were bound together by what felt like a smooth rope and while there was a lot of it, the knot itself felt crude and loose. Having three inch claws on each finger must have made it difficult for the Aliens to tie it correctly. Maybe if he wiggled the right way....  
  
Keeping an eye on the guards who were lounging just beyond his makeshift prison, Lance twists and turns his wrists. They didn't seem to notice his fidgeting, speaking to each other as if he didn't exist. He only stopped when the door to his small cage creaked open. He straightened as one of the aliens entered the already cramped space, a crude looking cup cradled in their clawed hands and their gaudy, flowing robes rustling against the stone ground.  
  
A sinking feeling fills his stomach.  
  
The alien clicked curtly at something Lance couldn't see. Suddenly a hand reached out from behind, grabbing a fistful of his hair and tilting his head back so it smacked roughly against the bars of his prison. He grunted at the impact but didn't take his eyes off the first reptilian who was slowly approaching him. 

Unable to move properly, Lance did the only thing he could think of: he kicked his legs, doing his best to hit the alien, and ignored the pain that spilled from the gash at his waist. Un-phased the alien darted forward, avoiding his kicks with surprising dexterity. It grabbed his chin with one hand, raising the cup to his lips with the other.

Lance clamped his mouth shut tight, glaring defiantly. They tilted their head at the resistance and dark, lidless eyes glanced over his shoulder. Suddenly his back arched, body going rigid, as his other captor jabbed one of their claws into his wound and _twisted._ His mind went blank as his side exploded in pain.

Lance screamed.

Immediately the cup tipped into his mouth. The bitter tasting and foul smelling liquid rushed down his throat, cutting off his scream in a gurgle as he choked on it. Tears pricked the corners of his eyes and ran down his cheeks. His heels scrapped against stone. It felt like minutes, but had to be only seconds, before the cup finally emptied and both of his captors released him. Lance turned his head to the side, body shuddering and chest heaving as nausea overwhelmed him, and he expels as much of the excess liquid as he could.

The damage was already done, though, as he'd swallowed most of it.

Lance slumped back, exhausted, side throbbing and breath hitching behind his teeth. His body tingled as the disgusting concoction started to weave its way through his system. Gradually he felt his body go slack as he lost the ability to move, muscles unresponsive despite his returning panic, and he sagged even farther in his bonds with a soft groan. Whatever that drink had been made of, its intention was clear: it was meant to paralyze him.

At least he had been able to keep his eyes open, mostly.

It wasn't long after when two more of the creatures entered his cage. The robed one clicked curtly at them in their strange language. Lance tried to focus on what he could hear and little he could see as he was untied and half-carried, half-dragged away by the guards.

It felt like a crazy out of body experience if he were to be honest. Or maybe it was closer to being trapped in his own mind. Either way, being able to see and hear, but not move, was a strange and terrifying feeling. Even more so when he didn't know what was going to happen, let alone have a way to stop it.

On the bright side, if pain could be considered positive, Lance could feel the fresh blood that oozed from the newly reopened wound as it pulses from the earlier abuse. Pain that was only amplified by the rough and uncaring handling of his escorts.

For a moment, Lance wondered where they were taking him. But then he remembered.... the translator in his helmet had picked up a few words of their language before it'd been taken. One word had stood out more than the rest.

_Sacrifice._

Lance felt his blood run cold at the realization. Fervently he began to wonder where the rest of his teammates were. They _were_ looking for him.... right? They had to be. Sure, he may be the most dispensable paladin in Voltron and the only one clumsy enough to get captured. 

But they wouldn't just _leave_ him like this..... Would they?  
  
No. They wouldn't. Lance was positive about that much. Shiro was coming for him; they all were.  
  
His armor scraped loudly against stone as he was lifted onto some kind of raised platform. His vision changed direction as he was sprawled out on his back and found himself looking up at the open sky rather than at the ground. The robed alien stood over him, arms spread wide and sleeves flapping in a small breeze. A long crooked blade was in one hand, edges sharp and tinged red. Out of his peripheral Lance could hear the faint chanting of several voices he hadn't noticed before.  
  
His heart hammered wildly in his chest, eyes burning, and he swallowed hard.

He just hoped they wouldn't be too late.

**Author's Note:**

> Long story short: I discovered Whump Week rather late, like day 4 or 5 late, and after looking at the prompts, I really REALLY wanted to write something for it.


End file.
